The Long Night
by AragothwinElfBlade
Summary: It's been a bad time for everyone. Slash! JackChaseangst!Warning: mm adult content
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is slash people! Consider yourself warned. Jack/Chase and Jack/OMC. Just read it.

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A blonde woman in a UCLA sweater opened the door into the hotel room. Vin made sure to cant his hips to the side as he leaned against the door frame. Giving her a slow, sexy smile, he drawled, "I heard there was a lovely lady in need of company…"

With an imperious gesture, the woman cut him off and ushered him inside. Shrugging, it was her money after all, Vin dropped the Casanova act in favor of a more business-like manner. "This is suite 321, and you did call for an escort, right?" he asked.

"Yeah," the woman's voice was flat, "you're in the right place. Hold on a second." She walked over to the black duffel laying on the floor and dug out a bundle of clothes. Walking back over, she shoved the cloth into his arms, "Put these on."

It seemed tonight he was going to get down and dirty fast. Vin began to strip. Arching his back, he drew his shirt over his head and showed off the lean muscles of his torso. Dropping the black mesh top on the ground, he looked over to find his client looking away. The tips of her ears were flushed red. "There's a bathroom, you know," she snapped at him, keeping her eyes averted.

Puzzled, Vin retreated to the bathroom. Leaving the door open a crack, he asked, "Excuse me, but what exactly is going on." The woman wasn't acting like she had called for him. He could hear her moving around the room, doing something.

"I called you up for a friend." Her explanation sounded annoyed, as if he should already have figured out what was going on.

Vin nodded. Without the audience he'd reverted to taking off his clothes normally. He pulled on the clothes the woman gave him, plain white boxers, loose black pants, a tight black t-shirt, and a loose black jacket. Once he was dressed he exited the bathroom with his clothes, neatly folded, in hand.

The room had been changed. The bag was gone, as was the shirt he'd left on the floor. A pair of socks and black combat boots had been left on the bed. Dim light trickled from the only lit lamp. Hustling forward, the blonde took his other clothes from him and stowed them out of sight in a drawer. Looking over, she said, "You can have those if you want."

"Okay," Vin said, surprised.

Pointing at the footwear on the bed, she ordered, "Put those on." While Vin complied, she pulled out a vest-like thing and a holster with a gun. Looking up after finishing the knots on his shoes, Vin protested, "Whoa. Hey, lady, look…."

Rolling her eyes, she groused, "It's not loaded. Take the jacket off and come here. Almost used to brusque attitude, Vin stood patiently while she strapped on the Kevlar vest and arrange the holster properly on his belt. Taking a step, she turned a critical eye on her handiwork.

Finally she declared, "Not perfect. But if you keep the lights dim you'll do." As she applied the final touch, a black leather band around his left wrist, she gave him marching orders. "You can call him Jack. He'll be calling you Chase. Just do as he says and don't ask questions. Whatever you do, don't be afraid. No matter how rough it's getting, just say his name a couple of times and he'll back off. He won't actually hurt you." That seemed to be the extent of her advice. With a last glance at him, she left the room, adding, "He's had a bad week," over her shoulder.

Vin leaned against the wall and exhaled. He wasn't quite sure what to think. The blonde obviously knew what she was talking about. But if she did, why wasn't Jack going to her rather than forking over cash for a prostitute. Figuring it was none of his business, he sat down on the edge of the bed and waited.

The dim lighting made the room seem smaller and more distant. Vin found himself drawn into a drowsy trance as he watched the steady flicker of the ancient bulb. There were footsteps outside the door, a soft shush as it opened, and the low grumble of a man's voice. The tall, broad frame of a man stood silhouetted against the harsh light of the hotel halls. A sharp hiss of an indrawn breath reached his ears. With a clunk the door swung shut.

For a long moment, the client stood in the dark watching Vin. Feeling unnerved by the gaze, no less intense for being unseen, Vin asked, "Jack?"

"Chase," Jack's voice was low and hoarse. "Chase, what are you doing here?"

Playing along, Vin answered hesitantly, "I got a call…"

With a groan, Jack walked over and collapsed on the bed next to Vin. "Chloe," he growled. "Figures."

Vin jumped in to defend, who he assumed was, the blonde. "She said you had a bad week. Wannae talk about it?"

A sharp bark of humorless laughter was followed by, "No, not really." Lying back on the bed, Jack scrubbed his hands over his face. "I've had a fucking long week, Chase. You know how it gets. Just so fucking long."

Imbuing his voice with as much empathy and sympathy as possible, Vin replied, "Don't I, Jack." Wondering exactly what he was expected to do now, Vin decided to go with the flow. He reached over and began to rub slow, soothing circles on Jack's shoulder with one hand. Jack sighed deeply and leaned into the touch.

Since it seemed to be effective, Vin moved closer to Jack. Thigh pressing against the other man's side, he reached down and began a neck massage. Long, hard strokes forced knots and kinks out of the wiry muscles. Moaning in pleasure, Jack sank father into the bed, as Vin continued to work on his neck and shoulders.

Once the tension was mostly dissipated, Jack sat up to find himself face to face with Vin. The escort felt himself being drawn into the turbulent blue eyes, glittering brightly with too much drink and not enough comfort. A broad, calloused hand brushed against his check leaving a streak of warmth. Without thinking about it, Vin drew the older man into his arms and pressed his lips against the close cropped hair. "Hey, now, Jack. I bet I can make that week a little shorter for you." His offer was real, as opposed to the ones he usually made. This client would be an easy one to be with.

Strong arms wrapped tightly around Vin's lean torso. Jack clung to the younger man with all of his strength, moving his face from where it rested, at the junction of neck and shoulder, to press kisses to every bit of skin he could reach.

The encounter took on a more frantic tone. Vin found himself shoved flat on the bed with Jack looming over him. "Chase," the older man whispered as he pressed open mouth kisses to every uncovered bit, "Chase, Chase, Chase." Vin was crushed against the broad chest in a protective embrace. "You're okay, we're okay," Jack reassured himself. "We're okay."

"Jack," Vin grunted painfully. "Hey, Jack. You're crushing my ribs here, buddy." Laughing, Jack eased up.

The older man pulled his side arm and holster and set it on the table next to the bed, then did the same with Vin's. "I think I'll take you up on that offer Chase," he growled playfully. "But first thing, vest and shoes." Grinning at each other, the men rolled around and banged together as they removed there bullet-proof vests, socks, and boots. After that was finished, Jack snagged Vin and dragged him against himself once more. Burying his nose the crook of the younger man's neck, he breathed, "My partner. My Chase."

A lump grew in Vin's throat. The affection, sheer need, in the man's words made him feel like an imposter. Of course, that's exactly what he was. A stand in for someone Jack really cared about. He reached down and squeezed Jack's hand, before drawing gently away and peeling his shirt off.

Rolling over, he faced Jack with a smile. Jack's pale eyes shone softly in murkiness, roving over the flat planes of Vin's chest, but focusing mostly on his face. A tentative hand came up and rubbed lightly over hardening nubs. Vin arched into the touch, moaning his appreciation.

Something hot and feral flashed through Jack's eyes at the sound. In a swift move, Vin was on his back with Jack straddling his hips. The younger man's eyes widened with something akin to panic when he saw the wild gleam. When his wrists were seized and pinned roughly over his head, Vin recalled Chloe's advice, "Jack, Jack. Slow down. Hey, Jack, we've got time."

After a moments coaxing, Jack relaxed and released Vin's wrists, pulling his shirt off instead. Leaning over, he rested on his elbows framing Vin's head. Vin's hands rubbed light circles up and down his biceps. For the first time that night, Jack leaned in and pressed his lips against the other man's.

Normally, Vin didn't have a problem with kissing, but this was different. At first, the escort had thought that Jack was just imagining very hard. But the sweet smell of whiskey on the older man's breath and the raw emotion in his voice brought Vin to the realization that Jack actually believed he was with Chase. The revelation made his stomach churn unpleasantly. It also explained why Chloe had been so specific about the appearance of the man she was hiring. She was probably the one who got Jack drunk in the first place.

It seemed wrong to kiss a man who was so obviously in love with someone else. Right now, Vin just wanted with charade to be over with. He turned his head away from Jack's questing mouth. His action drew a concerned, "Chase, what's wrong?"

Vin was uncomfortable, but not vindictive. Jack didn't need to know the truth. Pasting a smile on his face, he replied, "It's nothing, Jack. I just realized I have to go soon."

"Oh." Disappointed, Jack rolled off him and turned his back. "I guess you better get dressed then."

Feeling slightly guilty, Vin reached over and remarked, "I didn't say now. I said soon. Come're Jack."

The older man went willingly back into Vin's arms. With practiced ease, the escort aroused the man, avoiding mouth to mouth contact. Finally dragging himself down to undo Jack's pants.

It was quick, professional, and impersonal. Quick mainly because Jack hadn't been with someone in awhile. Vin wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and zipped Jack back up. Clumsy hands, from the mixture of the alcohol and endorphins, groped at Vin lightly, obviously trying to return the favor. But the younger man was still haunted by the soft whispers uttered during the blow job. Cursing and pleas interspaced with soft declarations that sounded a lot like love. Too much like love for Vin.

"Go to sleep, Jack," he whispered. "I got to head out, now."

A hand gently caught his wrist. "Stay for a bit?"

Eyes burning, Vin shook his head negative. "Sorry, but duty calls." Jack released him with a mournful sigh.

As Vin stood and collected his clothes from the drawer, he found his hands were shaking. He shoved his feet into loafers and slid on the leather jacket he arrived in, zipping it up all the way. Before he left, he turned to see Jack dozing on the bed. The peaceful scene in his mind's eye he fled the room.

Chloe was waiting in the hotel bar. When Vin appeared, she scowled. "I paid you for the whole night."

"He's asleep," Vin informed her bluntly. "I stayed with him tell then."

Nodding reluctantly, Chloe accepted the deal. "Fine. Can you do this again?"

Vin's reply was sharp. "No. Find someone else next time. Or even better, find the real Chase."

Chloe's expression crumpled. Looking into her glass, she whispered, "I wish I could."

Her reaction was the final straw. Unnerved and confused, Vin retreated from the hotel, hailing a cab to get him to his apartment.


	2. Jack's POV

Was that three…or four? Jack couldn't quite recall the number of the drink he tossed back in a single swallow. Chloe would know, that's why she'd come with. She never forgot how many drinks he'd had. At the thought, he gave a lopsided smile. And she'd been doing a lot of counting lately. Speaking of, where was Chloe anyways?

Despite the alcohol in his system, Jack got to his feet smoothly enough. Sure, his movements were a little slower and more careful, but he wasn't about to fall over either. Thank God for good genetics. He began to walk away but remembered he hadn't paid for the drinks. Fumbling out his wallet, he was stopped by the bartender's voice. "Don't worry about it, man. The blonde's got your tab." Rolling his eyes, Jack nodded his thanks and left the dining area of the hotel. He had to get a cab. Chloe would shoot him herself if he tried to drive in this state.

"Jack," the woman in question came hurrying out of the elevator towards him. "Jack, stay there."

Sighing, Jack reassured her, "I'm taking a cab, not driving myself." He eyed her warily, "You are not taking me home. I want my dinner to stay where it is."

Chloe put her hands on her hips and huffed. "If you check my file, you'll see my driving score is higher than yours. Particularly the safety and accident awareness tally. And," she added with a critical look, "you don't have any dinner to stay anywhere."

There was no way to win an argument with Chloe. Jack ought to know, he'd tried. However, she'd still do what he wanted anyways. "Look, Chloe…"

"Come on," she tugged gently on his wrist. "We need to get to the third floor. Can you manage the stairs, or should you take the elevator." She glanced over at him and decided firmly, "Elevator."

The gentle pressure on his wrist made Jack follow her reluctantly into the elevator. It was on the tip of his tongue to protest, demand an explanation, but the edges of his world had been considerably softened by his earlier activities. With a sigh, he surrendered to the worried blonde woman. Whatever she wanted, he would along with it. He trusted her, but mostly he just wanted a chance to forget. He snorted softly, it wouldn't be the first time. Was he really that pathetic that he had to depend on Chloe to provide him some sort of comfort?

Okay, that sounded wrong. Jack frowned absently at his reflection in mirrored door. As much as he liked Chloe, and he liked her a lot, he was so not going there. Not that she wasn't pretty, or that it would a hardship to… Jack moved away from that train of thought as rapidly as possible. Unfortunately a far less pleasant image replaced his previous ones.

…_Abaranel's face was startled as he stumbled back. Both hands clutched his stomach but blood dripped on the floor anyways. But it wasn't Abaranel's face he was seeing with red trickling out of the mouth…_

Shuddering, Jack sidled closer to Chloe, as if her presence could keep the nightmares away. She gave him an odd look but thankfully let it go. A sharp ding and jerk signaled they had reached the third floor. Chloe took possession of his wrist once more and lead him down the hall. Jack walked into her back as they stopped abruptly at room 321. A nice, easy number for Jack's slightly wooly mind to remember, if he only could figure out which hotel he was at again.

"Chloe," he grumbled as she slid the keycard through, "what's going on?" The flat look Chloe gave him told him she wasn't going to answer that particular question. Mumbling under his breath, Jack opened the door. He made part of the way inside when the harsh, grey bars of artificial light illuminated the figure sitting in the darkened room. The cry torn from his chest came out a sharp, angry hiss.

Sitting on the edge of the bed was Chase Edmunds. His partner, the only person Jack had really loved since Teri's death. The man he'd hurt one very bad day. Every part of Jack's soul screamed at him to rush over to the younger man and beg forgiveness on his hands and knees. Anything, everything, to get Chase to stay with him, even for a little bit.

Instead, he pushed the door closed. Some things hadn't changed. What pale skin wasn't covered by clothes gleamed with its on peculiar ambience in the dim light. He must not have been working undercover because the dark hair was as short as Jack remembered it. The wariness with which the younger man eyed his old partner was new, as was the band on his left wrist. Three guesses why that was there. Jack felt something catch in his throat as Chase softly uttered his name.

"Chase," he took an instant to compose himself. The name had come out too hoarsely. "Chase, what are you doing here?"

The pale pink tip of Chase's tongue darted out to wet his lips. Jack's eyes followed its path, remembering a time when the older man would have walked over and tried to tease it into making another appearance. "I got a call…"

Shit. Something instead Jack cracked and cracked hard. "Chloe," his voice was dead. That's what this was about then. Chloe had begged her best friend to help her. Feeling inexplicably tired and old, he staggered over to the bed and collapsed next to Chase. "Figures," he muttered darkly. The proximity to the younger man, lacking actual contact, was a cold comfort in his disappointment.

Chase stiffened when he heard the accusing tone with which Jack had spoken his friend's name. "She said you had a bad week," he hesitated. "Wannae talk about it?"

Talk, there's an idea. A harsh laugh, more of a sob, came from Jack's abused throat. "No, not really." Not bothering to look over, Jack closed his eyes and flopped backward on the bed. He could easily visualize the sulky look Chase was wearing. Wiping one hand down his face, Jack reluctantly admitted, "I've had a fucking long week, Chase. You know how it gets." Softly, meant more for himself than for the other man, "Just so fucking long."

"Don't I, Jack," Chase's response was surprisingly gentle, considering the man's twisted sense of humor. A warm hand was laid softly on Jack's shoulder. After a moment, it began to rub careful circles over his tense muscles there. It felt so damn good to have gentle hands on him again. Hands he could trust, there to bring pleasure, not more pain. Eager for more he sighed in contentment and arched into the reassuring touch.

The bed shifted under Jack's back and Chase pressed up against his side. The petting turned into a massage as Chase added his other hand. It was pure ecstasy for a man who had spent the last six months wound tighter than grandpa's pocket watch. Vocalizing so Chase would know exactly how good it felt, Jack let out a long moan. Chloe may have called him, but Chase was here for Jack. That thought turned the bad-ass CTU agent into an even bigger pile of mush. Despite everything, Chase was here and had his slim hands on Jack's body, and not to try to kill him either.

When the last of the knots in his shoulders had been forced out, Jack pushed himself slowly up so he could look Chase in the eye. It still seemed impossible that the younger man had forgiven him, was really here with him. A sense of wonderment filled him as he stared into the familiar smoky-jade eyes and saw no anger or accusation. Unconsciously, he reached for Chase as he always had when he longed for contact. The back of his knuckles lightly traced the younger man's check bone before being pulled hurriedly away.

Cursing himself, Jack pulled back slightly. It was one thing for Chase to touch him, but despite his partner's seemly gregarious nature, Chase detested being touched by all but a few. Frankly, Jack wasn't sure his name was among those anymore. But Chase drew him into an embrace, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. Holding him tightly, the younger man whispered, "Hey, now, Jack. I bet I can make that week a little shorter for you," into Jack's ear.

Relief hit Jack's system like a burst of adrenaline. It was permissible to touch, to be able to hold on, to be trusted. Drawing in a shaky breath, he wrapped his arms around Chase and buried his face in the warm curve where the slender neck met strong shoulder. The smell there was sharp and… A frown tugged at Jack's lips. There was something off about Chase scent. Shaking it off as the effect of too much whiskey and not enough sleep, he hurried to reassure himself. The skin in question was still smooth and surprisingly soft under his open-mouth kisses. If it tasted different, well, Chase must be using a different brand of soap.

Soap, it seemed like such a minor thing, but if that had changed, something could have. Panic reared its ugly head in Jack's chest. He needed to see Chase, see him right now. Using a move Chase was familiar with, he changed positions until the younger man was lying on his back beneath him. His hands were clenched at his sides to suppress the urge to pin Chase down. All Jack really wanted was to rub up against the man, lay on top of him, keep him safe. Keep Chase like he couldn't keep Abaranel or Fletcher or Garcia, because while they were all his people, Chase was his partner. The only true partner he ever had. And when he began to frantically kiss the skin that looked white in the dimness, he could taste his own desperation.

"Chase, Chase," Jack's whisper bordered on tearful. "Chase." This was real, this was Chase, warm and unwavering, safe. He pulled the younger man into his arms. "You're okay," his murmur was meant to soothe the other man, "We're okay." That was a little startling, but true. "We're okay."

A soft grunt, like the ones that Jack had annoyed Chase with by referring to them as cute, issued from the younger man's mouth. "Jack," he gasped, "Hey, Jack. You're crushing my ribs here, buddy." Jack had to snicker at that as he loosened his hold.

Chase's playful side was coming out. The one that made bad puns and kissed Jack senseless then ran away laughing until the older man gave chase. It was one of the things Jack had missed. If they were going to do this, the first priority had to be safety. Jack removed his concealed weapon and reached over and unclipped Chase's service pistol. Stretching, he managed to lay both guns on the nightstand.

Now that any possibility of an accidental discharge had been removed, Jack turned back and rumbled mischievously, "I think I'll take you up on that offer, Chase." Remembering pervious encounters that had been highly amusing but frustrating he added hastily, "But first thing, vest and shoes." If he had to call Chloe for and extraction, again, he was sure Chase would die from humiliation. That, and Chloe had enjoyed herself a little too much in Jack's opinion. Chase was his, and he wasn't sharing, not even with Chloe.

That opened a whole other can of worms, one that Jack had managed to repress. He found his eyes drawn to the sight of Chase stripping off his shirt and dropping it over the side of the bed. It made Jack feel cold that his partner was so far away. Reaching out he drew the younger man back into his arms. Back to chest, Jack searched out his favorite place to bury his nose. When he snuggled into it, he sighed happily, "My partner," a bit more possessively, "My Chase." Chase stiffened slightly at the endearment, but squeezed Jack's hand before rolling over and facing him.

Scanning the interplay of muscle, defined but not bulky, Jack reached out and stroked the warm flesh gently, returning the favor. When Chase began to relax, he smirked and laid his hand flat, applying more pressure, making sure to scrape his gun calluses over the hardening nipples. It had always been a hot spot for Chase and produced a very long, very sexual groan.

The sound shot straight to Jack's crotch. Combined with the sight of Chase pressing into him, it set him off. They had been undercover the first time. Chase had been horrified, embarrassed, not for himself, but at the thought Jack might have to have sex with him to protect him. Hell, the younger man had offered to find someone else to do the deed, like Jack would let some stranger fuck his partner. Chase had been awkward in bed, his lanky body kept tangling up in itself as he had rushed to get off his shirt. In the end, Jack had just held him there, wrists pinned over his head, to keep him from hurting one of them in his well-meaning clumsiness.

Chase's startled voice drew him out of the memory. He looked down to see that the younger man was once again beneath him with his wrists over his head, except he didn't seem to be enjoying himself. Too far, too fast, he cursed himself silently. It had been awhile since they had done this and here he was jumping the gun. He pulled and stripped off his shirt.

To make up for his roughness, Jack carefully leaned down and set to work coaxing Chase's mouth open. The older man had never been big on kissing, it was harder to keep an eye on who you were in bed with that way, but Chase liked it. He liked it a lot actually, and Jack often indulged him as an apology for something. But for some reason Chase turned away.

The strange, almost happy mood Jack had been floating on vanished. He was surprised there was no thud when his heart hit the ground. He'd done something wrong, upset Chase somehow. "Chase, what's wrong," he begged. Silently adding, 'Please let me fix it.'

Shrugging stocially, Chase replied, "It's nothing, Jack. I just realized I have to go soon."

Jack's heart couldn't get any lower, so it broke. Rolling away he watched the damn useless organ seep his life out into the cheap brown carpeting. "Oh," was choked out around something less pretty. "I guess you better get dressed then." Numb, aching, wishing that this week had killed him instead of leaving him to this, Jack waited for Chase to go. He was alone again. It was better that way.

There was a soft touch on his bicep. He resisted the urge to pull away when he heard, "I didn't say now. I said soon. Come're Jack." Chase's arms were warm, and the skin on skin contact felt good enough to make Jack moan again. Talented hands ghosted over the scars on his back as a hard thigh slipped in between his legs and began to rub against the sensitive area. Jack couldn't help but to respond to the sensation, rutting against the slimmer man. It had been a long time since he'd actually enjoyed sleeping with someone.

Dazed by the sensations, more than just sexual arousal, it felt like he was going to burn out of his skin. All that he felt was the hot sparks those hands trailed behind them and the deep rolling pleasure from his groin. It left him helpless, unable to do anything but moan Chase's name over and over. Whenever he tried to clutch at the other man, give him a chance to feel what he was, he found his hands pushed back to his sides.

When Jack found himself on his back, it took him a second to remember how he'd gotten that way. But it soon didn't matter as Chase unzipped his jeans and began sucking him off. Tensing his muscles, Jack forced himself to stay still. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt his lover. One hand let up clutching the sheets and came to rest on the back of Chase's head, not pushing or directing, just laying there. When Chase swallowed around him, Jack began to add words to the noise he was making. "Shit, shit. Fuck, Chase. Look good down there, Chasey."

A light scrape of teeth sent Jack over the edge. Jaw tightly clenched, his whole body snapped taunt for one, long, perfect moment. Exhausted, the older man crumpled back down on the bed. There was the sound of a zipper being down up. Mind hazy, Jack reached for Chase. Sure he could be a mean SOB, but never left Chase hanging, not unless the kid wanted it.

Chase refused Jack's offer. Pulling away he ordered, "Go to sleep, Jack. I got to head out now."

The formality was upsetting Jack, not even the general sense of well being could cover it. Chase was pushing him away, out. Catching one of the slim wrists, he had the terrifiying thought of how easy it would be for someone to snap the delicate bones. Shuddering, he begged, "Stay for a bit." Maybe if he could convince his partner to just rest with him for a little bit…

The wrist was pulled from Jack's grasp. "Sorry, but duty calls." Hurt, Jack turned slightly and pretended to drift off to sleep. He listened to the soft scraping noises as Chase moved around the room. It culminated in the soft thud of the door swinging shut, a gunshot through Jack's raw heart. Curling on his side, he buried his face in his arm and pretended not to cry.


End file.
